


On the Outside

by idra



Series: 30 Days of Fic (June 2014) [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sadness, Talking to graves, canon character death (stiles' mom)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idra/pseuds/idra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a birthday tradition.  It's not the happiest of traditions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Outside

**Author's Note:**

> This was a hard ficlet to write. Mostly because it's something I have far too much experience with. But I had a wave of inspiration when I wrote this.

Derek stops and stares, frowning when he sees Stiles sitting in the middle of the cemetery, running his fingers over the grass. He's never seen Stiles here-- of course, Derek himself has never really spent much time here, even if his entire family takes up a good quarter of the lot. Derek comes once every couple years, never on the anniversary of the fire. He focuses his senses on Stiles, tilting his head when he hears the younger man singing softly. He doesn't recognize the tune, wonders absently about the language. It's familiar, but not and the song, though it has a sort of up beat, seems sad.

Without being aware of himself, he starts towards Stiles, licking his lips as he avoids walking on the flat gravestones.

Stiles looks up at the sound of footsteps, expecting to turn and see his dad. Only his dad knows he comes here on his own birthday to see his mom-- to thank her, in some odd way, for having him, for putting up with him while he was growing up, for putting up with his dad long enough to have him. He talks to her all the time, had told her long before he'd even _thought_ about telling his dad about Scott and Derek and werewolves and Kanima and he'll sing their favourite song in her native Welsh. Though his Mom had never actually been to Wales, but her mom had grown up there before meeting his grandfather and they'd moved to California where his grandfather was from. Grandpa was Welsh too, but had lived in California for the majority of his life. 

Stiles startles though when he realizes it's not his dad, but Derek standing there, frowning at him. "What, dude?" 

"Dyvynarth?" 

"Huh." Stiles sounds surprised and he is. No one, not since his mom died, has said his name properly-- well, his grandfather's. Even his dad can't begin to pronounce it, even though Stiles has tried to tell him. "You said it right." At Derek's raised eyebrow, Stiles smiles sadly. "My grandfather. Most people can't pronounce it; don't even try, actually."

"Welsh, right?"

Stiles nods. "That would be why with all the weirdness. Now you know why I go by Stiles."

Derek sits next to him. "That was Welsh you were singing in?"

"Yeah. Mom-" Stiles cuts him off and takes a deep breath. "Mom and I used to sing the song when we'd come see her parents." He gestures to the third stone, bearing his grandmother's name. 

"Gwenhwyvar? As in Arthur & Guinevere?"

Stiles chuckles, even though it comes out sad. "Yeah. Apparently, my great grandparents loved the stories of Camelot. She had a brother named Arthwr."

"Why..." Derek trails off and looks away. "Why are you here?"

"To see my mom. It's how I see her on my birthday. Eighteen today." Stiles sighs and reaches out, touching his mom's grave. "Mom, this is Derek. I've told you about him."

Derek frowns at Stiles. It feels oddly like meeting a lover's parent, even though he and Stiles aren't lovers and he can't meet someone who's been dead for years.

Stiles licks his lips. "He's a good guy, even if he does look like he's permanently pissed off, but you probably know that. You probably even know his family."

"Don't," Derek snaps out and Stiles jumps, looking at him. Then Stiles rolls his eyes and focuses back on his mom's headstone.

"Sorry. Told you." He glances at his phone and frowns. "I gotta go, Mom. Dad's getting off work early so that he and I can celebrate. I'm letting him have pizza with me, 'cause neither of us can make any of the Welsh food you used to make for my birthday. I tried last year, as you remember, I'm sure. Disaster. He won't get the leftovers though and I've already told him, he's stuck with salad for a week after." He sighs and leans forward, kissing the headstone. "I miss you Mom. I'll see you in a few weeks with Dad, for your birthday." He gets to his feet and dusts himself off before he starts for the parking lot, glancing over when Derek fall in step with him. "What's up? Did you need something?" he asks, trying to shake off his mood.

"Came to see... Saw you and was curious. I heard the song and... I don't know. I guess I wanted to ask. I didn't know it was your birthday. Your eighteenth."

Stiles shrugs. "No big deal. I don't really like to make a big deal of it. Not since Mom passed away. Just another day. Another year older, though I don't really feel any older." He shrugs again. "So, if you didn't need anything, I'm gonna go."

"Stiles..." Derek trails off when Stiles looks at him, eyes wide and questioning. He changes what he was going to say-- sorry 'bout your mom, sorry you have to spend your birthdays without the most important person in your life-- and just says, "Happy birthday."

Stiles smiles a little. "Thanks, Der. See you at the pack meeting." Stiles reaches out and squeezes Derek's forearm before he climbs into his Jeep and heads off.

Derek watches for a moment, then looks back at the graveyard. He frowns and keeps going. He's got things to do-- maybe a present to go buy, if he can think of anything.


End file.
